Shawn Spencer spun around in his chair at the Psych office, pineapple flavored smoothie in hand. Gus was sitting at his laptop, typing furiously, when the phone rang.
"Shawn, can you get that?" Gus asked, not looking up from his report.
Shawn spun in a circle and picked up the phone, "Hello."
"My name is Emma Swan, I believe I am looking for someone in your area," came the voice on the phone.
"Do you mean in my area of expertise or the city of Santa Barbara?" Shawn asked.
"In the city of Santa Barbara, Mr..." Emma trailed off.
"Spencer. Who are you looking for Miss Swan? Me possibly?" Shawn said, a faint memory of someone named Emma over ten years ago coming to mind.
Over in Storybrooke, Maine, Emma bit her lip and had another sip of her hot cocoa, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I was."
Shawn grinned at his best friend, "I'm good Gus, aren't I?" Gus paid Shawn no attention and squinted at the screen.
"Well, Mr. Jerk-Who-Knocked-Me-Up-When-I-Was-Seventeen, we have a problem," Emma whispered angrily into the phone, attempting to not have any other patrons of Granny's Diner overhear what she was saying. "Your son wants to visit your grave."
"Huh?" said Shawn, perplexed at why someone would want to see his grave when he wasn't even dead yet. "Why would someone I've never met want to visit my grave?"
"It's complicated. I might've told Henry that you were a good firefighter who died trying to help people," Emma explained.
"His name is Henry?!" Shawn screamed into the phone. "Why does he have to have my dad's name?!"
"Why on earth would his adopted mom name him after your dad?" Emma asked.
Shawn was startled. He had a son named Henry, who was adopted, yet still knew his birth mother? "Where did you tell him the grave was?" Shawn asked, making up his mind to go there.
"Storybrooke, Maine," Emma said shyly.